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Dear Sir / Madam,

Sub: Accident on NH5 on 16 September 2009

This is with reference to the captioned subject. If you don’t own any Honda City car (it could be another brand of Honda – but Honda it was for sure) then I apologize for directing this letter to a wrong address and you may kindly ignore this letter. But if you – the resident of “17, Vani Vihar*” – indeed are the owner of the aforementioned vehicle, I request you to read on.

The accident occurred at the signal on the CRP square (it could also have been the other square east to it on NH5) in Bhubaneswar between 7-7:30 AM on 16 September 2009. I was riding my bicycle (Trek 3700) when the signal turned red and I hit the brakes so hard to avoid colliding with the Honda car right in front of me that I was tossed in the air and my body hit the rear side of the car (the upper portion of my right chest just below the shoulder still hurts as I write this letter).

Before I proceed further, let me first apologize to you that I collided with your car. I should have been more careful about the timing and finesse of application my brakes. As far as the speed was concerned, I was under no circumstances going beyond 35kmph – probably high for regular cyclists but not dangerous enough for the general traffic on road. I was doing a time-trial of 40kilometers and only 6 more kilometres were left for me to finish my loop when the ill-fated accident occurred.

After recovering my balance, I had a look at the portion of the car where I had hit it. I could not discover any damage. I should have had paid more attention to the small scratch that I would later be informed about. Since this accident had occurred right on the highway, it was prudent for me to clear the bicycle off the road. I also needed to confirm if the bicycle was still in a working condition. Therefore I resumed my ride. The gear-changer set had displaced but the bicycle rolled without any difficulty. By this time the signal had turned green and for lack of any reason to remain there, I proceeded towards my Sahid Nagar guest house.

After I had ridden for a kilometre or two, the same Honda City pulled over in front of me and when I saw the driver and a madam coming out and signaling me to stop, I stopped. Thereafter in the most courteous way, I was shown a small scratch on the body of the car, slightly above the rear number plate. I apologized to the madam who was on her way to drop off her two daughters to their school and asked her how I could pay for my mistake. Dear madam was generous enough in requesting me to pay Rs. 2000/- (two thousand rupees only) as repair fee for the scratch rendered on the car, to which I readily agreed. The issue was that, at that moment I was not carrying any cash / credit-card or even any i-card – which again I must say was utter carelessness on my part.

Finally, it was mutually agreed upon by both parties (dear madam and me) that a) my Adidas sunglasses (which were procured less than a week ago at meager cost of Rs.3,200 only) and b) my Fastrack wrist watch (the cost for which I do not know because it had been gifted to me by my sister on the even of 2008 Rakshabandhan Festival) – would serve as valid security deposit with madam, until the time I paid to her Rs. 2,000 as repair charges.

Having thus explained the entire incident to you, let me once again profusely apologize for today’s accident. Please also pass on my apologies to madam’s daughters who might have gotten late to their classes because of the extended duration of the dispute settlement that ensued post the accident. I fully understand the importance of reaching school on time – I have myself been a studious student – both in school and later during my graduation and post graduation years at IIT Madras.

If this letter has reached the correct address and if you are in a position to pass on this letter to dear madam described above (I must have asked her name – I regret not noting down the obvious information), then may I please request you to confirm the same so that I can immediately pay for the damage rendered to your good vehicle.

As far as the pair of sunglasses and the wrist-watch are considered, I leave their fate on you. I certainly wouldn’t like to have them back if by the time this letter reaches you, they have already become the priced possession of any of your family members or staff.

Before I end, in the event that you are very sure that this letter has reached a wrong person / address and that you never had any Honda car, I still plead you to let me know about the error.

Regards,

Amrit Vatsa

*address changed for confidentiality’s sake

PS: Well, the letter was delivered by my driver later in the afternoon yesterday after the morning’s imbroglio. The recipient confirmed that the letter had certainly reached the right address. The sarcasm worked – I was asked to please collect my possessions which I did in the evening. Of course, I didn’t have to pay a single buck. At the house the dog was still the dog, but this time one with a wagging tail and a lolling head. Dragon’s hubby was in shorts and told me they were sorry if I felt insulted and how the dragon would not have erupted fire, lava and all those hot things had she known who I was. Mr. shorts also put forth a background to explain why the the dragon had turned into a dragon – why the otherwise curt mem like his wife must have had lost her temper unnecessarily – too many autos hit and bang and run away, we have been facing such things since such a long time that we are so totally fed up and irritated. Anyway, so goes on life! Long live dragons and dogs! And longer live cyclists!

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It was the last 5-6k of the 40k route (Guest House to Khurda toll gate and back). A signal on the highway that had consistently been orange during the onward journey was fully functional now, alternating between the other two shades of red and green. The signal must have turned red just when I was approaching it because all vehicles screeched to a halt. I must have been at 30kph+. I slowed my bike down at my own pace but it was not slow enough by the time I saw a fully still Honda City right in front of me. I needed to slow down faster – faster than I ever had – I pulled the brakes as hard as I could. The wheels stopped rolling. The bike didn’t. The bike rotated about the front wheel till it had thrown me over the fully still Honda city.  I don’t know if the bike kept rotating for some more after I had been disgorged by the machine but by the time I was back on my legs, the bike was still too. Still Honda City. Still bike. Still shades. The fucking Adidas shades had cost me 3.2k just two days before. I would have been devastated had they been damaged. Also they were lighter than the bike. So first, I picked up the shades. Yay – the were still intact. Yay – I put them on. How cool! You bang a still Honda city, you fall off your bike – your bike tosses in the air, you shades fly off and hit the asphalt and the first thing you care to do is to pick up your shades and put them on! How cool I say. With the now protected eyes, I did a quick superficial scan of the exposed parts of my body – not a single droplet of blood – not even a single bruise. How sad! All this while – the few seconds that is – the still Honda City remained still. Nothing moved – not even the doors. The passengers needed a reaction time.

It was the bike’s turn now. I picked it up, let my bum hug the saddle once again and peddled. Yay – the bike worked – well, it moved and that’s all I cared about. So I kept pedaling. I thought I could compensate for the 20 lost seconds if I pedaled harder. I pedaled harder. The gear-changing set attached to the right handle had displaced clockwise. This can be taken care of when I am back – I thought. You cannot have absolutely zero damage if you bang a still Honda City on a red signal. The greater damage was about to come.

I had pedaled less than 2k when the Honda overtook me (I wonder what took it so long to overtake me though) and pulled over. When it was passing by me, I was thinking – lucky bastards – if only I had been hurt any badly, I would have created a scene there itself – let them escape now. This is what I was thinking when the bloody Honda pulled over in front of me. I was wondering if I should hit the damn car once more. I giggled at the thought. I was still worried about reaching back as fast as possible – I was more interested in my timing. If the guys inside wanted to know if I was hurt and all that – sorry – I was not interested. So the Honda pulled over and the not-interested me passed it from the left and left the car behind. But I thought it was too mean of me. I mean speed is not all that matters – there is something called courtesy. I could at least slow down a little, look back at the folks inside the once again still Honda and smile a little. May be that would make them feel less guilty about blocking way for cyclists on highways. That’s exactly what I did. I passed the Honda from the left, slowed down and turned back my head and before I could smile and assuage the pain of the riders, I saw a chutiya driver running towards me as if I was trying to flee the scene. Fuck – that’s exactly when it occurred to me that this was precisely what I had done – I had fled the scene. I stopped the bike immediately – I could not afford to let them believe I was trying escape away.

The driver was followed by a not so fat (but fat enough) mem-sahab in a white and green salwar suit. She was furious. The driver was trying his best to match the volcanic expressions of his mistress but he didn’t come close enough. She was the ferocious tigress ready to chew me up in less than three seconds, she was the scaly fire-erupting dragon all charged up to reduce me to ashes in a single blow of her over heated lungs.

Let us, for a while, think from the dragon’s side. Here was a goddamn crack on a cycle who came and dashed her precious car and then tried his best to flee away. He definitely must have noted the extent of damage he had caused to the hallowed car by his momentum and must definitely have been a) either poor enough to pay for it or b) scared enough to ask his parents to pay for it.

The goddamn crack was face to face with the dragon and her dog. It was important to cut-off the dog from the conversation. The easiest way was to stick to English. The dragon erupted back in English. The heat of the lava – if shoved up your ass – hurts you as much whether performed in English, Hindi or Bhojpuri.

I was a gentleman – spoke less – told the dragon I would pay her the 2k that she thought was just good enough for the iota of an insignificant scratch the accident had rendered on the polymeric body of the Honda, just over the right end of the rear number-plate. This is a fucking bicycle, not an aeroplane – give me money NOW – fumed the dragon. All I have right now is a sweaty lauda and a pair of hairy balls that I can let you suck dear dragon. I don’t have any cash now mam. We can go to a police station and get a case registered. Such answers could not bring down the heat by even 0.02 degrees. Give me your i-card NOW – the dragon demanded. Sweaty lauda, hairy balls. I don’t have anything right now. Let’s go wherever you want me to go. Take my number – take my address. Give your number, give your address. Anything is fine. Let’s just get over it. And ask your dog to keep quiet. I must say the dog was in no mood to leave the battlefield to his mistress alone. Lack of knowledge of Angrezi could not prevent the pet from licking the scaly ass of his Goddess. He could bark what, why, when, no, yes. That was good enough. He kept barking. Mistress shall definitely increase my wage by 500 bucks. Huff. Huff.

Give me your wrist watch. Give me your shades. Give me all your clothes and let me lick your entire body. A crowd of spectators had amassed and I could sense the number grow with time. The issue needed to be settled. As I handed over my 3.2k Adidas shades (yes I told her the price though I doubt she believed me) – my fucking new shades – and then asked her where could I get them back. Give me your address or phone number – I requested in a logical tone. She blurted out some numer 9 8 x  y z. Can you give me a pen so that I can note the number down? No pen for you. You didn’t show me your penis, how can I give you a pen now. This was weird. I wondered if she was more interested in running away with my shades than getting the 2k that she apparently needed to help her Honda regain its splendour. This is what I was wondering about when the darting eyes of the dragon fell on the wrist – ah, so she indeed was moving down! Also give me your wrist-watch. My wrist-watch – the one that I had bartered with my sister with my earlier pair of shades last year in Mumbai. But it was futile to put forth the sentimental value attached to the asset that the dragon was now demanding. She didn’t seem to be in the mood to believe anything. But I was not going to let the beast run away with my shades and watch without even telling me how to get them back. Where do I get them back, I repeated. You need to tell me where you live so that I can come and collect. Give me your address. You address give – responded the dog. The dog reminded me of Serang Ali from Sea of Poppies. Fuck mother your you away go dog go. 17 Vani Vihar* – finally the dragon relented. My daughters are getting late to school. I need to go. Zoom, left the cavalcade.

PS: All this happened 1.5 hours before I typed it all out. Right now, the right chest is bloody aching even after having applied an ice-pack. And now I need to find time to either go myself or send someone to the dragon’s nest to get back my stuff. Blah.

PS2: Lesson learnt – always carry cash and i-card when you are biking. In India, no one expects you to be a top-shot unless you are in a car. It really doesn’t matter whether you are riding a 20k bike or wearing a 3k shades. In the moment of trial, everything could be labeled a duplicate copy – save the hard currency. And never, never ever leave the spot before the other party whenever a collision occurs.

*address changed for confidentiality’s sake

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This kinda news scares you. And this kinda soothes you down. Hmm. Not much point pondering over the vagaries of nature. All it takes is a day’s outburst of nature’s fury to turn good to bad and bad to ugly, isn’t it? I shall leave that to nature – it’s her job to offer challenges and my job to live them, if I can. I ordered a book called Short Stories Of Himachal Pradesh on Flipkart yesterday – and they said they have dispatched it today. So I hope to get my copy before I leave. What is life but a short story!

Talking about stories, check out Guy’s post on how the mother-fucking heavy rainfalls in Himachal Pradesh screwed up his cycling plans. This dude was to bike from Shimla to Leh. He started from Shimla – got stranded for like three days somewhere in between and is now  back to Shimla. Such goes life! Sigh! Will nature be on my side? Time shall tell I guess. Or can you, haan?

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Sometimes you wish you had someone around whom you could hug and cry just for the sake of crying.

I hope Himesh realizes that when he walks towards the camera with a black babe in the opening shot of the song ‘Dil ka radio’,  no one is really looking at him. I like the song btw. I also like the fact that 1. he has gotten rid of his cap 2. he doesn’t hold the microphone at 45 degrees to x axis in the first coordinate and 3. only 10% of his voice comes through the nose.

I have cracked a nice 42+ kilometer loop that starts and ends in the guest house – did it in 1:40 minutes today morning. The work out after that has left me with a waist-ache.

The eyes hurt when you are biking without shades. Since I can’t locate mine, I would have to buy a new one this weekend.

Two different people have told me that weather has gone haywire on the Leh-Manahi highway and that snowfalls have been happening randomly. After a few months gap, I started using my AC yesterday and set it up at lowest possible temperature (which is 16 degrees Celsius btw) so that I am better suited to spend a night alone on the highway if khuda na khasta I get stranded in snowfall. If I survive, well and good. If I don’t, life was a bitch anyway.

I have quit smoking.

I would continue having beer once in a while. I just had three bottles of fosters and all I have to say is that sometimes you wish you had someone around whom you could hug and cry just for the sake of crying.

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My bike still does not have any rack. I need one in the rear over which I can place a pair of panniers. Bro – in Delhi – has been assigned the task of fetching a rack that can be fitted on my bike. They didn’t have racks in Hyderabad when I bought the bike and in a search operation conducted yesterday in the streets of Bhubaneswar, I could find only one cycle shop which again could not supply me a rack that could fit. One doesn’t even find panniers anywhere in India – the only option I have is to get two bags and get them stitched together. Let me do that the coming Saturday.

Morning’’s plan was to take the NH5 and keep cycling for about an hour. I did that and crossed 20k. I cycled faster while returning saving myself five minutes (could have saved more had there been no signals) and thus covering 40k in a little less than two hours. I was so hungry that I skipped gymming after that (shall work out in the evening now).

I find cycling a lot less demanding than running. May be I have been cycling too slow. Of course I overtake every cycle that comes my way but then, so far, I have hardly encountered anyone rolling a geared cycle in the mornings – so comparison is not justified. The ones cycling are either students or folks who simply cannot afford any other mode of transportation. Sometimes I think that they need my Trek more than I do – the ones carrying those orange coloured huge plastic crates of milk – the ones carrying hazzar aluminium kadhais and tumblers for selling from house to house. Whenever you feel bad about life, hit the road, walk, run or cycle – and look around. You will find more reasons to feel good about your life than you ever thought existed.

First few days of cycling made me realize how badly I needed gloves. The palm (and especially the right one) started getting all slippery with sweat – badly affecting the grip on the handles. Yesterday I got a pair. I like learning things this way – rather than buying all the mumbo-jumbo in one go. I am sure all of us have seen or known one of those over-enthu rich folks who suddenly decide on joining a gym to get slim and then go ahead and buy a dozen Reebok t-shirts, half dozen Puma tights, an unreasonably costly pair of Adidas shoes, branded rist bands and head-bands and of course – if they don’t already have one – an ipod – all at once – and then they are no where to be found near the gym after a month. That’s definitely not my style. I ran on a borrowed pair of shoes for about an year before I decided I ‘needed’ my own. I rode 65k before I decided I needed gloves. But then, to each his own.

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